


The RA Will Need to be Contacted

by buying_the_space_farm



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Roommates, and they were ROOMMATES, oh my god they were roommates, specifically remote controlled airplanes tho don't get excited, the underage is barely underage Rodney is 16 and John is a fresh baby 18 year old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buying_the_space_farm/pseuds/buying_the_space_farm
Summary: Rodney is a 16-year-old going to MIT, and asked to be able to room alone for his freshman year. Due to university policy, he instead is forced to room with Mathematics major John Sheppard, who is aiming for his Master’s before going off to do whatever people with Master’s degrees in Mathematics do.At first absolutely at each other’s throats, Rodney and John come to consider each other friends. Then something more that both of them are too afraid to voice until it all comes to a head.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 24
Kudos: 59
Collections: McShep Big Bang 2020





	The RA Will Need to be Contacted

**Author's Note:**

> i had so many ideas for a big bang fic but this one was the most fun sounding to me so i did it! asshole genius bb rodney! sarcastic bb john! i had to do it, it spoke to me on a deep level.  
> it is implied, but not outright said that john is *18* while rodney is only 16. its not a huge af age difference. theyre both freshmen. dont try to call me out on this i wont be finagled into feeling guilty about what i wrote.  
> Also! almost forgot: I made a playlist for this fic on Spotify. Give it a listen! find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/buying-the-space-farm/playlist/6RVImncmZYPHQFagAFyEvJ?si=VaPv5f0tSwSmdqybEAYzVg)

Meredith Rodney McKay was not a man to be trifled with, even as a college freshman. Possibly especially as a college freshman, as he had little to lose and everything to gain. He was here to learn and kick ass and take names. 

Maybe not the last two, but the point still stood. 

He was here to prove that he was the smartest man in the world, possibly the galaxy. 

Well. Smartest teenager. Smartest human? He was only 16 after all. And he couldn't very well give the benefit of the doubt to any of the other useless MIT students out there who thought they were better than a teenager who had skipped a few grades. He would have skipped more if it hadn’t been for his mother insisting that he needed proper socialization with peers of his age. 

Like that had worked out.

Not giving the benefit of the doubt, however, meant not rooming with anyone, thereby not allowing any of them to sway his opinion of them and assigning them more hope and trust than they deserved. Plus! His genius needed room to breathe. Along with his computers and projects. 

So when he walked through the doorway of his room, two bags hanging on each side of him (mostly packed with technology if he was being honest), to find someone in his room already, there was something to be said for his patience, really.

“What are you doing here?” Rodney asked, a sneer in his voice.

There was nothing on the desk on the other boy’s “half” of the room, and the bulging bag at the foot of the bed obviously hadn’t been unpacked yet. Good, he would be easy to get rid of.

“Uh…” the unfairly cute boy said, not glancing away from the magazine he was holding above his head as he lay on his bed. “This is my room?”

“Uh,” Rodney mocked. “No, it’s not. Really not. Because this is my room and I specifically requested that I room alone.”

“Dude, I think you got the wrong room,” the boy said, gesturing around the room. “Because apparently this is a co-ed dorm or some shit, because my roommate’s name is Meredith.

Rodney dropped his bags on the floor and dug into his back pocket for his wallet, rummaging around for his driver’s license. 

“You just proved that this is my room,” he said, tossing the small piece of plastic at the blue-eyed boy.

He dropped the magazine he had been reading onto his chest and fumbled for the card. Glancing at the name on it, he snorted. “Meredith? That’s really your first name?”

Rodney stiffened and drew to his full height. “It’s an old Scottish family name.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Bet you had a real fun time in your 12 years of school.”

“10,” Rodney corrected. “And no, I did not.”

“Ah, skipped a few grades, did you?” The boy said, glancing up from the card. “What do you think you are, some boy genius?”

“I don’t think I am, I _really_ am,” Rodney replied, stressing 'really'.

He was sick of having this argument halfway in the hall, so he brought the bags he had been carrying in, along with the bag he had left in the hall upon arriving at his room. He dropped them all at the foot of his bed before dropping onto the edge of it, clasping his hands together between his knees. 

“I really do think there is some kind of mistake here,” he said finally, after the boy had continued fiddling with his ID and studiously not saying anything.

The boy heaved himself up from his previous position to mirror Rodney. “You do know that freshmen aren’t allowed to room alone, right?”

“Yes, of course I know that,” Rodney said, waving the boy’s questioning statement away with one hand. “But I kind of, you know, _figured_ that with my amazing transcripts that the university would realize they needed to take my genius into account when figuring out a rooming situation for me.”

The boy stared at him, eyes steely and resolute and so _blue, ugh_ . “You _really_ thought that.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Well, that and the sternly worded letter I wrote.”

Floppy Hair— that’s what Rodney was calling him now because he refused to keep referring to him with complimentary terms— let his head drop into his hands and groaned. “I don’t know where you come from, _Meredith—”_

“I go by Rodney,” he interrupted.

“Well, _Rodney,”_ Floppy Hair said, lifting his head out of his hands. “I don’t know where you come from, but that’s not how the real world works.”

“Well, _Floppy Hair,_ it works like that when your family helped develop one of the reigning departments of the university.”

Floppy Hair glanced down at the ID that was still in his hand. “You’re not one of _those_ McKays are you?”

Rodney smirked. “The one and only family.”

Floppy Hair sighed. “Great. You’re a legacy.”

“Untrue.” Rodney sniffed. “My parents just helped start the department.”

“Yeah, as if that didn’t influence the university’s decision to admit you at all.” Floppy Hair shook his head. “If that isn’t true, my name isn’t John Sheppard.”

“I don’t care what your name is, I just want you out of my room.”

Sheppard threw his hands in the air. “This is my room too, how many times do I have to say it?”

Rodney narrowed his eyes at him. “I _will_ be talking to the RA about this.”

Sheppard glared right back. “You’re gonna have to go way higher than the RA to get rid of me buddy.”

“Gladly,” Rodney snarled, getting up and storming towards the door. “I want you gone by the time I get back.”

“Not happening!” Sheppard yelled through the quickly closing door.

* * *

The RA was no help at all and Rodney was forced to share a room with Sheppard that first night. And the next. And the next.

Eventually, Rodney grew to believe that the gum-popping RA had not gone to the head of the housing department like he had promised he would. Rodney could only figure that the RA didn’t care about the education of what was doubtlessly the university’s soon-to-be finest student. 

If only Sheppard would be moved. Then he would already be the best in his class.

But no. None of the RAs were taking him seriously. Was it time to take it to the Dean of Undergraduates?

Rodney stared across the room at Sheppard reading yet another plane magazine and decided that yes, it was time to get rid of him.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Mr. McKay, but I really can’t do anything for you, freshmen aren’t allowed to room alone.” The dean shook her head. “It’s a university policy.”

Rodney sputtered. “I _specifically—”_

“It doesn’t matter what you requested— the only way you’re getting out of rooming with Mr. Sheppard is to request a roommate transfer.”

He scowled before getting up and storming off, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

“Look, you wouldn’t understand what I mean by this, but you’ll just have to deal with it—” Rodney was hissing one day to Sheppard, glaring at his impassive face.

“Why do you think I’m some sort of idiot?” Sheppard interrupted. “I go to the same college as you.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t pay your way into attending,” Rodney scoffed.

“Like you did?” Sheppard retorted snidely. “And for your information, I’m here on scholarship and good grades.”

Rodney was on the verge of vibrating with anger. “I already _told you,_ I got here on the merit of my grades.”

“And _I_ already told you, we go to the same damn school, we’re both smart, Jesus Christ.” Sheppard huffed and rolled his chair back towards his desk having earlier rolled back from it in frustration when Rodney tried to requisition his desk in expanding his project across more space.

Rodney glared and went back to his own desk, cramped as it was with various papers and books from the eight classes he was taking.

“God, I wish I could be rooming alone,” he muttered, fingers moving across his laptop rapidly.

“You’re not alone there, buddy,” Sheppard hissed back, putting in a pair of earbuds to block out Rodney’s mutterings.

* * *

* * *

In John Sheppard’s opinion, the 16-year-old Rodney McKay was far more trouble than he was worth. And far too cute as well. Just. How could someone so, so _adorable_ be both frustrating as hell and jailbait?

Life was unfair, that was certain.

He didn’t understand what exactly he had done to deserve this kind of punishment within his own lifetime but here he was, suffering daily, unable to do a single thing about it. And God above did he want to do something about it. Either kiss McKay to shut him up or punch him. The options looked equally appealing at varying points of the day.

A soft-looking sleepy McKay, fresh from sleep, already muttering about physics equations? Deserved a kiss on the cheek and cuddling till he was fully awake.

A vitriolic McKay after too many cups of coffee and going to five hour and a half long classes within eight hours? Dear God, save John from the crimes he was about to commit to get some peace and quiet while he was trying to do homework.

Anyway, McKay was more trouble than he was worth, and he didn’t want to be his roommate anyway.

Except.

John knew that not many people would be able to tolerate McKay even as much as he could. They wouldn’t be able to stand the desk light on all night or the rants that sometimes woke him at odd hours. They wouldn’t understand what McKay was going on about when he launched into another tirade about the subpar mathematics department.

And really, John could understand that bit. Engineering and physics were all well and good but their math department was, to say the least, lacking. But then, that was true for almost every college math curriculum before the advanced stuff. And that’s what they were taking. So. Lacking education it was, at least for the next few years. How they both hadn’t been exempt from these lower-level classes, John didn’t know. They were both extremely intelligent, McKay especially, so how they didn’t get a write off was beyond John.

But, that wasn’t the point here.

The point was that if McKay were to room with anyone else, he wouldn’t get anything done, because someone would likely bully him into never sleeping in the same room as them. And there were only so many times you could sleep on the dormitory common area’s couch before you started really regretting leaving even the regular dorm’s shitty beds.

So John needed to somehow convince McKay that he was a good roommate and wouldn’t drive him insane in the meantime. And doing that, and not going crazy from it, nor seeming like he was just giving in to McKay’s demands was a feat and a half.

His plan started with blankets and coffee. He noticed that with only the one set of sheets and the one blanket that McKay had brought, he was shivering in the poorly insulated dorm room in the early fall weather in Massachusetts.

So. A duvet and duvet cover that could then be filled with more blankets as McKay decided and a contraband coffeemaker for their room so that McKay didn’t have to spend so much money going to the coffee machine down the hall.

John knew McKay was Canadian and thereby should theoretically be better suited for Massachusetts weather than his Southern-born ass, but maybe he had a slow metabolism? Except with the amount he ate and complained of his hypoglycemia that wasn’t likely. The heat at home was likely cranked higher if nothing else. Getting used to cold while being unable to control the temperature was a damned thing.

Despite not knowing _why_ the kid— and wasn’t that a horrible thing to have to call him to stop thinking about him before he went to sleep— was always cold, he went to the ever-growing-useful Bed, Bath & Beyond to find the fluffiest coverings he could find for his roommate. If he bought one of the higher-end coffee makers while he was there, well, McKay didn’t need to know that. And if he went to get some of the good free-trade coffee from Trader Joe’s, well. He didn’t need to know that either.

* * *

* * *

Rodney came back to the dorm room to find a pot of pure-dark-goodness-in-a-cup brewing and the biggest blanket he had ever seen on his bed. His eyes widened in delight before narrowing at his roommate. 

“What did you do.” It was a flat statement of disgust and revulsion.

“Nothing,” Sheppard said, blowing across the surface of the mug of coffee in his hands. “Big package came for you, RA had to check it and tore the box open in the process, thought I would set everything up for you to get rid of the mess.”

Rodney shifted in place, itching to curl up in the blanket and sip on the hot drink that was less than a foot away from him, pilfered mugs from the dorm kitchen and all.

“My parents wouldn’t send me blankets and a coffee maker,” he finally said, edging more into the room.

Sheppard shrugged. “Maybe they were trying to warm up your space and keep you from getting homesick?”

“Hmm,” Rodney hummed but decided that really, his suspicion was unfounded. Sheppard hadn’t done anything to hurt him in any way, and there wasn’t much that he could have done to some blankets and a coffee maker while still being willing to drink it himself.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and curled up into a ball under his new duvet, which was warmer than he had ever been since he got here.

Despite the caffeine in the coffee, he soon found himself falling asleep, nodding off to the sight of Sheppard drinking his coffee and the sound of his fingers hitting the keys of his keyboard.

* * *

* * *

McKay was— Lord above, he was too much. 

Once he dropped off after what John was sure had been a very long day, he went to pull McKay’s other blankets up around him and move his mug from the edge of his desk. Even this early in the semester, McKay seemed to be moving at a breakneck pace and would burn himself out if he wasn’t careful. Genius was useful for many things but keeping sane wasn’t one of them.

After tucking McKay further into his nest, he dropped himself back into his desk chair and spun idly around, wondering what he could do to further make sure McKay stayed on as his roommate. 

Maybe decorating? No, it didn’t seem like either of them was really into keeping reminders of home about, and McKay hadn’t complained about the room being bare.

He thought he remembered McKay muttering about missing his cat late one evening but wasn’t sure if that had been a manic hallucination in the midst of mathematics or if it had been real. John wasn’t necessarily a fan of cats himself, so he could keep that one in his back pocket for now.

What else could he do?

And then it dawned on him. A toaster oven. 

The dorm room already had a mini-fridge, but it was pretty useless without any cooking facilities close by, other than the dorm kitchen. And somehow the dorm kitchen’s toaster oven managed to burn stuff while still leaving it cold in the middle. And both their meal plans would deplete eventually. This would benefit both of them and still look like John wasn’t doing it just to benefit McKay.

* * *

* * *

A couple of weeks after the blanket-and-coffee-machine drop off, a toaster oven appeared in their room. An incredibly contraband toaster oven.

Rodney’s respect for Sheppard grew by the tiniest bit because there was no way his parents had sent this.

He glanced towards Sheppard to find him staring at him with a nervous look on his face, eyebrows pinched together. Rodney nodded at him silently before ducking down to reach into the mini-fridge and drawing out the leftovers from the last restaurant he had gone to. Thankfully it was only a few days old and would make an excellent dinner once heated up in their brand new and fully functioning toaster oven.

Rodney quickly ate his food once it was done and turned to sit down at his desk and start working on his multitude of projects again when his stomach let out a loud rumble, still empty enough to remind him that he was a 16-year-old boy.

He stared longingly back at the fridge but he was rooming with another, if slightly older, teenage boy. There was no way the food in there was either a) his, or b) not going to be gone by the end of the night and in his roommate’s stomach.

He recoiled quickly when something came flying past his vision and almost fell out of his chair. The bar-shaped thing in a colorful package had landed on his desk on the left of his computer, hence the flying thing past his eyes.

“What is this?” He asked, picking it up gingerly with his thumb and forefinger.

“Protein bar,” Sheppard said, not looking in his direction. “Keep ‘em on me in case I don’t have time to go to a dining hall or come back here. There’s also some deli meat and bread in the fridge if that still isn’t enough for you.” There was no reproach in his voice, just simple statements of fact.

Rodney cocked his head at his roommate but decided that trusting him would go farther than rejecting the bar when he was still incredibly hungry.

He opened his laptop and set it to boot up and then tore into the protein bar, gnawing on it when it proved too difficult to chew to eat it quickly.

He felt like he was being watched so he glanced to the side, only to see Sheppard’s head whip back to face his computer, fingers once more flying over the keyboard.

Rodney squinted at him for a moment but then went back to his homework. He didn't have time to see what was going through his crazy roommate’s brain.

* * *

Canadian Thanksgiving had long come and gone by the time American Thanksgiving rolled around, but the holiday was… interesting, despite that.

Rodney, of course, didn't celebrate it— couldn't celebrate it by going home, because then he would miss class— and didn't feel like going home for the five-day break they were given. Any opportunity that he didn't have to see his parents was a good one.

But when he came back to the dorm to find Sheppard stretched out on his bed, a plane magazine once more in hand, no packed bags in sight, he was confused.

Sheppard was American, had been born in Texas for God's sake. He should surely be going back home for the holiday. His parents were sure to miss him after not seeing their golden boy for what amounted to months on end.

Rodney walked the rest of the way into the room from where he had at first stopped dead in the doorway. 

"So," he said, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. "Not going home for the holiday?"

"Nope," Sheppard said, popping the 'p'.

And that was all. No witty retort implying how stupid Rodney was, no explanation that actually his parents were going to come up here for the holiday, nothing.

Rodney looked askance at Sheppard. Surely he was doing something for the holiday.

"Going to a party or something?" He asked slowly.

"I'm not doing anything, McKay, happy that I finally admitted it?" Sheppard snapped, tossing his magazine to the side.

Rodney felt… _guilty._ "No, actually, I'm not."

Sheppard was better than most people when it came to reacting to Rodney. Most people grew short with him and his attitude, and his inability to realize when someone was pissed at him didn't help the fact. He had gotten yelled at by his fair share of professors already.

"Well, bully for you," Sheppard muttered, pulling out his phone to scroll through… _something._

Rodney grit his teeth. Sheppard was a decent roommate, given the roommate _he_ was given, but he was still an asshole sometimes.

"If you're gonna be that way, I'm gonna take back my as of yet not given invitation to something cool." Rodney wasn't exactly sure where the words were coming from. He didn't have anything cool on hand but he was a genius and Sheppard was sharper than the average metaphorical tool in the metaphorical box. He would figure something out.

Hopefully.

Curiosity sparked in Sheppard’s eyes as he looked away from his phone and made eye contact with Rodney. “What is it?”

Rodney pursed his lips, thinking. He wasn’t technically allowed lab space this early in his schooling, but he had managed to bully one of the international students, a guy named Radek Zelenka, into giving him his access code, and Rodney had taken to experimenting during his off-hours. Which weren’t many, given his schedule, but he could organize something in a flash.

Maybe something that flew? Designing an RC aircraft couldn't be too hard for a physics major like him.

He nodded to himself. “It’s a surprise.”

Sheppard crooked his mouth to the side. “Really? A surprise for me? Thought you hated me.”

“I may hate you, but I do know when someone is trying their best, despite falling short,” Rodney sniffed.

Sheppard actually laughed at that, a loud braying that surprised him for a moment. He realized this was the first time he had heard Sheppard laugh.

“ _That’s_ your laugh?” Rodney asked, half aghast, half amused.

Sheppard grew tense for a moment. “Yes.”

“It’s… endearing.” Rodney cocked his head to the side. “You should laugh more.”

Sheppard looked at him, considering. Then he nodded and went back to his phone, the screen casting a white glow on his skin.

Rodney floundered for a moment before planting his hands on his knees and levering himself up. It was Tuesday night, with Wednesday being the first day of their official break. Monday was the last day of break and then classes would resume again. He thought he could have a plane built by Friday evening at the latest. And then he could make Sheppard happy again.

Not that it like. Mattered.

Just.

Yeah.

* * *

He knew they didn’t have any good frame material in the labs so he ran to an RC store and got there 15 minutes before closing. The shop clerk glared at him, but he just ignored her and half-jogged towards the plane section. Rodney floundered again, lost in what could and couldn’t work. He knew theoretically what would work, but was entirely unsure of how to put it into practice with what equated itself with a toy.

He ended up grabbing a medium-sized plane that looked like it could take some modifying and ran over to the counter with five minutes to spare before closing. He slapped some cash down on the counter, yelled “Keep the change!” behind him and dashed through the door again.

He had a project to focus on.

* * *

When he woke up he was surprised to find himself in the lab instead of his room in the morning, stray rays of light glaring into his eyes from the windows high in the room. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was obviously late enough to be well awake and up. But with how late he had been up the night before, there was no blaming him for sleeping in, especially while he was on break.

Rodney sat up slowly, working all the kinks from his back and neck, slowly realizing that falling asleep on the lab bench really wasn’t the best way to be well-rested in the morning.

He stared at the state of his project to the right of him and decided that he wasn’t going to even think about fixing what his sleep-deprived self had done until he had coffee and food inside his stomach.

Right on cue, his stomach growled. When, _exactly,_ had been the last time he had eaten?

He stood up gingerly, waiting for any signs of dizziness or nausea, and was surprised when nothing happened for the first few seconds.

Then, it hit him and his knees buckled and he was on the ground staring up at the ceiling.

“Shit,” he hissed, rubbing the back of his head.

He patted around his pockets for his phone before tugging it out and dialing the only number that would help him now.

The call picked up and Sheppard answered, confused as all hell. “Hello? Who is this?”

“It’s me,” Rodney said. 

“Oh, real descriptive, buddy, can I get a name, please?” Sheppard said before Rodney could say anything else.

“It’s Rodney, you asshole,” he hissed. “Look, I need some help.”

“Who did you piss off this time?” Sheppard asked, humor in his voice.

“No one, as far as I know, but I may have, uh,” Rodney paused, suddenly unwilling to disclose what happened. “I may have collapsed after waking up because I haven’t eaten recently.”

“What?” Sheppard asked, voice high and worried. Rodney heard rustling and thumping in the background suddenly, like he was jumping around looking for what he needed. “I’m on my way with food, where are you?” His voice brooked no argument.

“South lab, first floor, west wing, room 232. Door code is 33592.” The ceiling was now spinning above him. “Please hurry, I really don’t wanna pass out.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Rodney, I promise,” Sheppard said, and he heard the door slamming in the background before the call disconnected.

For just a second, before everything really started swirling, Rodney was struck by the thought, _"He called me Rodney."_ Then he promptly passed out.

* * *

* * *

John was frantic. He threw power bars and peanut butter and bread and a bottle of water into his backpack and ran out of the room, barely stopping to close the door behind him.

He didn’t actually sprint to the lab building, but it was a close thing, despite telling himself that he needed to pace out the journey. 

He just needed to get to Rodney.

He got to the building and finally slowed, reading off the door numbers under his breath as he went. He got to the door of the room where Rodney was and quickly typed in the code, glad his memory hadn’t gone to shit the moment he really needed it.

He wrenched the door open only to see Rodney sprawled out on his back by one of the lab benches.

“Rodney!” He half-shouted, dropping to his knees next to him and swinging off his backpack.

“C’mon, Rodney,” he whispered, cupping his face in his hands. 

“Rodney whined at the touch and shook his head lightly. 

“Five more min’ts,” he mumbled, tucking his face further into the cup of John’s palm. 

He swiped his thumb across his cheekbone before he could stop himself.

“No, c’mon, you gotta wake up. I have peanut butter,” John coaxed.

“Pea’ butter?” Rodney said, eyes slitting open.

John chuckled. “Yeah, now wake up.”

Rodney heaved a sleepy sigh before fully opening his eyes and glancing around.

John moved one of his hands beneath Rodney’s neck while the other grabbed a water bottle from his half-open bag. He managed to unscrew it one-handed, the other anchored under his neck in case Rodney needed help sitting up.

“Ready to sit up?” He asked.

“I— really think I shouldn’t, given that the room is still spinning at an alarming speed.”

“Okay, can you get up on your elbows?”

Rodney hummed. “Maybe.”

He _did_ get up as far as his elbows, John’s hand migrating to rest between his bird-like shoulder blades. He was so _skinny._ It was hard to look at sometimes. He held out the water bottle to Rodney, silently asking if he could handle holding the bottle on his own.

He could, but his hand shook as he took it.

John carefully kept watch over him, his back a reassuring warmth against his hand that he was still alive, still okay. When Rodney held out the water bottle, John took it back and set it on the floor, the cap forgotten for now.

He made sure Rodney was safely laid down again and reached for his backpack, digging out a power bar as soon as he had a grip on it. 

Rodney half sat up again, immediately reaching for the bar and gnawed on it as soon as it was in reach of his mouth.

John still hovered worriedly over him, but his anxiety faded away with every bite Rodney took, with every shade that he went pink again, instead of deathly white.

When he finished the first power bar, he stared hungrily at the backpack next to John, like he was considering eating the whole thing as his next source of food.

John turned and took out the peanut butter and bread, reaching into it again before he realized his mistake.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Rodney asked.

“I, fuck,” John said, wanting to face-palm. “I forgot to grab a spoon for the peanut butter.”

“Sheppard, you promised me you weren’t an idiot,” Rodney sighed.

“Well, sorry, but I was more worried over you than grabbing silverware, jackass,” John snapped. 

Rodney looked stunned for a moment. 

“I’m… sorry?” He said, voice rising in pitch at the end like he didn’t know if he should be apologizing or not.

“You better be,” John muttered. He sighed. “Do you know if there are any, like, plastic utensils in here?

“Check the drawers next to the industrial sink,” Rodney said, as meekly as he could. Which wasn’t very meek in the first place, but he was trying.

Rodney laid back down as John went to sort out the drawers, covering his eyes with his arm.

John rifled through the loose paper, napkins, and random forks before finally chancing upon a spoon. He snatched it up and marched back to Rodney.

While John had taken an inordinate amount of time to find a plastic spoon, Rodney had levered himself into a sitting position and had dug into the bread. He had one slice of bread on each knee and one more hanging out of his mouth.

Rodney quickly stuffed the rest into his mouth and made grabby hands for the spoon.

John chuckled weakly and gave it to him, sitting down cross-legged when he reached Rodney’s side. He watched him for a moment, taking in his movements, his life. Then he turned and busied himself with emptying the backpack of the last of the food. Three more power bars and another bottle of water. 

Rodney had finished making his sandwich and was stuffing his mouth again, chewing far too fast but not choking. 

He stopped a minute, halfway through the sandwich, to stare at John. “You called me Rodney,” he finally said, taking another bite after he finished speaking.

John snapped back into focus. He thought back to the phone call, and then all his subsequent thoughts about Rodney and— he had started to call him that. When had he done that?

This morning apparently.

“I— I can stop?” He said, his own voice rising in pitch this time. 

Before he was even done talking, Rodney was shaking his head. “I. Liked it.” He sounded confused by his own feelings, something John could relate to.

John nodded slowly. “Okay then.”

“Do you want me to call you John?” He asked, eyebrows crinkling, fingers clutching at his sandwich.

John tried not to let his breath hitch at the sound of his name in Rodney’s voice. It was inappropriate and wrong and, fuck, he had it bad. He swallowed. “If you want.”

Rodney nodded shortly. “I will then. I mean, we’re something, like, close to friends, right?” He looked nervous again.

John took a deep breath and reminded himself that Rodney was two years younger than him, not quite to the day, but within the same month.

“Yeah,” he said, crooking a smile at him. “We are.”

* * *

* * *

John— and wasn't it strange to think of him that way, now— was staring at him.

This was something new for him. 

Rodney thought he understood it, given that John had found him passed out not 15 minutes ago, but this was something else. This was a studying look, one of focus and not just mindless worry.

At least, that's what Rodney thought it was. It was intense, that was all. More intense than a fainting spell should warrant. His parents hadn’t even been this worried about him last time it had happened.

But John was being— sweet. And kind. And Rodney could admit that he was lonely. He didn’t have any friends his age— _not_ that he _wanted_ to be friends with anyone his age, but the point still stood— and the only person who could be considered a friend here besides John was Zelenka, and Rodney had basically forced him to be semi-friendly with him.

It was very telling that he didn’t exactly know what to do with John’s concern. He didn’t know how to react to it, didn’t know how to deal with it.

Right now he just wanted to finish eating and take a nap. If he remembered the warmth of John’s hands on his face and contemplated having it all across his body, John didn’t need to know that. Life would be _way_ better without him knowing that.

* * *

Rodney got his nap, after ensuring that John hadn’t seen the surprise on the table. How he hadn’t seen it amazed him, but if John had been as worried as he said he was, it kind of made sense. 

He didn’t get the physical comfort he wanted though, and by the end of the day on Saturday, he was practically vibrating out of his skin. Trying to work on the plane was a bust and he ended up going back to the dorm and standing for far too long under the showerhead. He shivered underneath the hot spray, goosebumps erupting all over his skin, and tried dearly not to think about his roommate’s hands on his skin. That was a dangerous road to travel down and he didn’t relish somehow falling for him and then ending up heartbroken. He didn’t need that distraction in the middle of his schooling.

So what if John was handsome and laid down on his bed with his legs splayed open too often for his taste? It didn’t matter to him. Nope. Images of the very same action flashed across his mind and he groaned and hit the wall of the shower stall with the side of his fist.

He staunchly ignored certain parts of his anatomy until he couldn’t anymore. Then he stepped out of the shower stall feeling guilty as hell and hoping that John couldn’t— tell, somehow, some way. He thought he had been quiet, and it wasn’t like he had said his name.

He bundled himself in the pajamas he had brought in after toweling off and trudged out to the rest of the room, tiredness dragging down his bones. John was once more splayed out on his bed, shirtless and in plaid pajama pants. Rodney almost went right back into the bathroom to masturbate again but restrained himself. He threw himself into bed and turned his back to John, the room, the _universe,_ and tried to force himself to sleep. When all that happened was him hearing John snicker softly at his phone every few minutes, he turned onto his other side, facing the world, taking in the sight of John.

“I’ll have the surprise done by tomorrow, okay?” He said softly, words floating across the space between them.

John turned his head to look at him, the hand holding his phone dropping to his chest. His blue eyes went intense again, but he smiled, and that evened out the feeling that was sloshing around Rodney’s chest. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Rodney turned onto his stomach to bury his smile in his pillow. Approaching something like peace, he was able to go to sleep and ignore the dreams of John that plagued him.

* * *

* * *

John was a horrible, horrible man and shouldn’t be allowed to room with someone two years his junior. He was going to corrupt him and something bad would happen to him and, and, and John just really wanted to kiss Rodney, okay? Wanted to hold him close and protect him from the bad things that seemed to follow him like a cloud, wanted to cherish him like seemingly no other person had ever done before. It was a travesty, the fact that no one had seen the boy inside of Rodney begging for attention. He didn’t know the exact details of his home life, but he couldn’t imagine it was good, what with how he never talked to his parents or even got care packages from them.

John just wanted what was best for Rodney. And the best most certainly wasn’t him.

He rolled on his side under his blankets and looked at Rodney from across the room, blankets pulled up tight to his face to spare him from the chill of the room. John’s unknown gift was well used and loved by now, even just these few weeks into true fall. John himself was starting to feel a nip in the air when he wasn’t under his blankets but he would survive for now. If the heat really gave up the ghost he would manage to live somehow, but he didn’t look forward to it.

He could feel something deep in his chest settling at the sight of Rodney. There was nothing profound about him in sleep, but. He looked— better. Not stressed and angry like he so often was when he was awake. He was drooling on his pillow and all John wanted to do was cuddle up close and press kisses into his hair.

But that couldn’t happen, not under any circumstances. John could be a friend, be a confidante, but nothing more. Rodney barely liked him as a friend anyway, so he was safe, right?

Right.

* * *

* * *

Rodney snuck out the next morning while John was still asleep, layering a sweater over a sweatshirt over a long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants over his pajama pants. The breezes that kicked in from the seafront weren’t anything to joke about, despite having to battle through buildings and terrain alike.

Today he would finish the plane and then he could surprise John and then these feelings would go away, right?

Rodney meandered, yes, _meandered,_ towards the lab building where he had stashed the plane and looked around at the New England fall as he walked by.

The building was the same as it had been every day so far this semester, but something about it was niggling at him. It looked busier than it had been before.

Shit. People were coming back from their breaks early. 

His breath caught, and he ran through the building doors, almost immediately starting to huff and puff. Only Zelenka had really tolerated his projects in any manner and he had kind of… spread out, what with all the space available for his projects. With people coming back, that meant people taking over their lab space. And that meant clearing off their lab benches of things that Rodney had started making, by way of the trash can.

He skidded to a stop in front of the door and quickly plugged in the code for the door, already trying to open the door before the lock disengaged. 

He got in and almost groaned, seeing the beginning stages of most of his projects in the trash. He braced himself for seeing the plane demolished for parts, but despite his fear, it was still sitting on Zelenka’s bench, untouched.

He sighed and walked towards it, running his hand across the body when he got to the table. Nothing had happened to it. He could restart his other projects as they came along, and half of them wouldn’t have done what he wanted them to do anyway without further testing.

The plane was okay. 

And he was almost done with his enhancements on it, so he and John could fly it soon.

He went through the motions of making it look pretty, focusing more on making sure that all the wires that had been inside the plane were once more inside. He even took some of the model paint that had come with the plane and painted John’s last name on it, denoting it has his. It was basically a gift for him after all.

At last, he finished and stared at the plane in all its glory. It might not be as pretty as it had been when he started, but it would do the job of cheering John up, and that was all that mattered.

Why Rodney was so concerned with John’s happiness definitely didn’t matter and he didn’t plan on analyzing those thoughts about him any more than they needed to be. 

He picked up the plane and walked over to the trash can to cherry pick the best of his projects that needed further testing. He would find a new place to conduct those experiments if it killed him.

Carrying back the plane and two of his experiments took more effort than he would have originally thought, but it happened. Took a while, but he arrived at his dorm with his arms full and had to kick the door to get John to open it for him.

He pushed past him when John answered the door, a sleepy and confused look on his face.

“Where were you?” He asked, turning towards Rodney and yawning. “I was worried about you.”

“I was finishing your surprise,” Rodney replied, dumping his stuff on his bed and pushing the two projects out of the way. He set the plane on its wheels and moved to the side so that John could see it. “Tada,” he said, gesturing towards it with his arms.

John drew in a sharp breath. “For— me?” He asked, stepping tentatively towards it. 

“Yes, of course it is,” Rodney said, for once not snapping at the obviousness of the question. John didn’t look— the best right now. “I got it at the RC shop in town and souped it up a little bit.”

John touched the wings of the plane with one hand reverently. “Thank you,” he said softly, reaching out with his other hand blindly to grasp Rodney’s arm. “Thank you.”

Rodney covered John’s hand with his own free hand. “You’re welcome.”

After another moment of Rodney watching John looking at the plane, John turned to him, eyes alight with a passion heretofore unknown and asked, “When can we take her up?”

The corner of Rodney’s mouth curled up involuntarily. “Any time you want.”

“Let’s go,” John said, pulling away from Rodney and walking towards his dresser. Rodney watched for a moment, longing filling him as John reached to take his shirt off, but he grabbed his own pair of jeans and ran into the bathroom before he could see anything else. 

He took off his sweatpants and pajama pants and pulled his jeans up. He didn’t put the sweatpants back on but did consider it for a moment. But he thought about running around with two pairs of pants on and practicality won. His legs would survive the cold. His core would not.

He waited a few more moments to ensure that John was finished dressing. When he walked out, John was bouncing on the balls of his feet, holding the plane in his hands.

Rodney’s heart warmed incrementally from the frozen fright it had been in since he saw his projects in the trash. He walked to his bed and rifled through the various technology on his bed, looking for the remote for the plane. This was as good a time as any to take John out and fly it.

He grabbed the remote but stopped before walking over to the door.

“Do you know of a good place to fly this thing?” He asked.

John hummed. “The courtyard? Up on the main campus?”

Rodney thought for a moment. That would be perfect. He nodded and set for the door. John followed and there was a bounce in his step that Rodney could _hear._ He grinned to himself and led John to where they needed to go.

The walk was bracing, wind chilly and damp, but it was well worth it. They took turns flying the plane, landing it and launching it a dozen times.

Seeing John grin like that— Rodney didn't know what to do with himself. His eyes were lit up, electric in their delight. He wanted to be the cause of more John-Smiles, wanted to go up and kiss him for no other reason than to make him smile.

John landed the plane a final time and turned to Rodney.

"I— thank you," he said, enveloping Rodney in his arms. "I really needed this."

Rodney didn't really think what he had done garnered such an enthusiastic thank you but his fast developing crush would take what he could get.

He let his arms come up and wrap around John in return. Daring to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the embrace. At his next breath though, he was assaulted by John's scent. 

He had mostly gotten used to the dregs of it in their shared space, but this close to the source— Rodney needed to tear himself away from it before embarrassing things happened.

He didn't want to, but he dropped his hands to John’s waist and pushed him away by his hips. John parted from him slowly but went, regardless.

There was a look in his eyes that Rodney didn't know how to interpret but desperately wanted to.

“We should— we should go get something to eat,” Rodney babbled before anything rash could be done. Like him asing John what _meant_ by that look.

John took a deep breath before stepping further back from Rodney. “We should.” He pursed his lips, and _oh,_ how Rodney wanted. “Pizza?”

“What?” Rodney said at first, dazed. “I mean, yeah, sure, great,” he babbled again, a string of words falling out of his mouth.

John smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

* * *

* * *

John watched as Rodney demolished half of the pizza they had gotten delivered to their room, and was somehow charmed. He didn’t want to know what was going on in his mind that he found someone fighting gooey cheese charming.

Or maybe it was just Rodney and what he did for him.

He had had some idea of what Rodney could do with their limited means, but getting a plane for John to fly, even if it wasn’t one he could fly _in,_ it was amazing.

And— he had hugged him back.

John could admit that he had pressed his face into Rodney’s hair to smell him but— _he had hugged him back._

Rodney hadn’t seemed the type for physical affection so to get that from him was—

John swallowed his bite of pizza and focused on the present. 

They had pushed their desks together to make a kind of table so that they could both still reach the box. 

Hopefully this was something that could stick around. Because in reaching for their slices, they had bumped hands, both snatching their hands back right away. John wasn’t sure, but he thought he had seen Rodney’s face turn red the first few times.

He watched Rodney out the corner of his eye and saw him set his piece of pizza down carefully then start fiddling with the edge of his paper plate. 

“Do you mind if I ask why you didn’t go home for the holiday?”

John knew that had been coming. He sighed. “I don't have— the best relationship with my dad. He wanted me to take over the company he runs and I want to go into engineering.” He shrugged. “They're not exactly conducive with one another.”

“And that’s why you’re on scholarship,” Rodney said, realization dawning on him.

John nodded. “Can I ask why you didn’t go home during the break?”

Rodney smiled sarcastically, a harsh light in his eyes. “My parents hate each other and like to blame me for it. Don’t know why they had my younger sister if they don’t like each other, but here we are.”

“I’m sorry, Rodney,” John said, looking down at his plate, uncomfortable with how similar their situations were. “You have a younger sister?” He asked, hoping the change of subject would be a welcome one.

Rodney smiled. “Yeah, just starting middle school. Also skipped a few grades, like me. Not quite as smart, but it’s a damn near thing.”

“Oh, God,” John said, mock fright in his voice. “Two Rodney McKays in the universe? How will the world cope.”

Rodney shoved at his arm, finally grinning and having the proper light shining in his eyes. “It will do just fine, I should think.”

“I can honestly say now, I think the same.”

* * *

* * *

Rodney couldn't stop staring at John. Couldn't stop staring at him when he sat at his desk, couldn't stop waiting for him to come back to the dorm after he had left, couldn’t stop listening for the sound of his breathing to fall asleep to the steady rhythm. He didn’t know what all this meant and frankly, he was getting creeped out by himself. This obsession would only get in the way of his work. If he didn’t do better than what his parents expected of him then was going to college even worth it?

He didn’t want to think about what his parents might do to his college education if they found out he was semi-pining over his roommate. His _male_ roommate. 

He sighed and buried his face in his textbook. His life was a mess and there was no end to his plight in sight.

John walked into the room, whistling some recently released country song.

Rodney dared a look at him and wanted to moan in misery. Definitely no end to his plight with John dressed in a tight black shirt that framed his chest _just so_ and was taut against his biceps.

He was gonna die from sexual frustration before he even made it to finals.

* * *

Rodney was sitting at his desk when it happened. John came in and made himself at home on his bed, idly stroking his own stomach. He was staring at Rodney, a dark, but not angry, look in his eyes. It was passionate like anger, but nothing like it in any other aspect.

He looked— hungry.

For Rodney?

Rodney felt like a butterfly pinned to a posterboard.

He spun his chair so he faced John and asked, “Is there something on my face?” Trying not to read into the situation was harder than he thought but John was a young man who had to have people drooling after him. There was no way he would—

No way he would like to—

Rodney was simply below his interest and that was all there was to it.

But John was still staring at him, not answering. Instead he sat up and planted his elbows on his knees, cradled his face in his hands, and stared at Rodney some more.

Rodney only rolled his eyes and straightened out his chair so he was facing his desk again. He tried to concentrate on his work again but he could practically feel the weight of John’s stare on his skin. It made goosebumps race down his spine. He shook his head and clicked his pen open, closed, open, closed.

He heard John sigh as he stood up and then—

He was moving to stand behind him, hands settling on his shoulders. Rodney tensed beneath them.

“I’d like to do so many things to you,” John whispered, leaning down to speak next to Rodney’s ear. “Starting with kissing you.”

Rodney breathed shakily in and forced himself to speak. “Oh, really?”

He could _feel_ John nodding next to him. “Yep. Can you think of anything you’d like to do to me?” His hands wandered down from his shoulders to slide down his chest, catching on his nipples through his shirt. 

Rodney couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through his frame.

“A few,” he said, words escaping through his quickening breath. “Maybe a few things.”

John spun his chair around. “Care to share?”

Rodney’s eyes landed on the burgeoning bulge in John’s jeans that was practically eye level with him. All of a sudden, all he wanted to do was see it and touch it and maybe taste it?

He stood up slowly, legs shaky, and stared at John, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips. He placed his hands on John’s hips and leaned forward slowly, tongue darting out to lick his lips just once before they connected, a sharp arc of electricity seeming to reach between and connect them like they were meant to be together.

John pressed forward instantly, tongue pressing firmly against the seam of Rodney’s mouth, demanding entrance. Rodney let out a small whimper and complied almost instantly, unable to help himself. John wrapped his arms more firmly around him and pulled them together until they were pressed together from knee to chest. He felt the bulge in John’s jeans harden further until it was a hard line pressing into his hip. 

He wanted their clothes off, wanted to feel them skin to skin and John seemed to have the same idea because instantly he was pawing at Rodney until he got the message and lifted his shirt up over his head. The kiss was disconnected for one lonely second before they were once more sloppily licking into each other’s mouths. John’s shirt had apparently disappeared at the same time as Rodney’s and then their jeans were being pushed down and John was pushing Rodney toward his side of the room and oh lord this was moving so fast but he didn’t want to put a stop to it for fear that John would come to his senses.

He sat heavily on his bed and in an instant John was in his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing him back until he was half reclined, head almost touching the wall.

“John,” he panted, whining high in his throat when John bit his lip and tugged. One of his hands had wandered back down to his chest and was playing with one of his nipples. Rodney’s chest arched into his touch and _oh,_ Rodney was lost. Lost to John and his touch.

Somehow they were out of their boxers the next moment and John’s mouth was on his neck and his hand was on his cock and—

Rodney woke with a start, a stray piece of paper clinging to his face, stuck there with drool and sweat as the door opened behind him and John walked in and sat on his bed, staring at his phone all the while.

Rodney stared resolutely forward, begging his erection to fade away before John noticed how stiffly he was sitting. _That_ would be a fun conversation. “Yes, I fell asleep and had a sex dream about you while I was trying to do my calculus homework. It’s just. So stimulating, you know?”

* * *

Real well.

Rodney avoided John as much as he could after that.

Which is to say, he managed to come back to the dorm after he had fallen asleep most nights and managed to leave without waking him up in the mornings. The lab couch had never seen so much use, according to Zelenka.

Personally, Rodney didn’t want to think about all the other people that might have slept on the couch before him— germs were not his friends on the best of days, and these were certainly the worst. He didn’t sleep as much as he should have been, he wasn’t eating right— he was so _tired_ of his situation and he just wanted to _go home._ And home— it involved John, one way or another.

Rodney sighed and stood up from the stool he had been sitting on for far too many hours. He had to face the music one time or another and sooner was better, wasn’t it?

He walked home slowly, hoping beyond hope that John was out or asleep so that he could sneak in and not have to face him tonight.

He wasn’t that lucky.

John was sitting at his desk scrolling through something when Rodney walked in and stopped short just inside the door.

He took a deep breath and stepped farther into the room. “Hey,” he called softly. 

John didn’t reply, focusing on what was in front of him.

Rodney’s heart broke a little at that. 

“Have you had dinner yet?” He asked instead of demanding that John pay attention to him. “I can order some chinese for us.”

John shrugged and made a humming noise low in his throat.

Rodney dropped his bag by his desk and slowly sat down in his chair, facing John. Their desks were still pushed together and they were a scant foot away from each other. He rolled his chair forward and turned to bump shoulders with John. “You doing alright?” He asked.

“Aside from my friend and roommate avoiding me like the plague for no reason for a week, yeah, I’m good,” John said shortly.

Rodney ducked his head. “I’m— sorry about that. I actually want to. Talk to you about that.”

“Really?” John said, turning his head to look at him, eyes bright with something and mouth screwed up tight. “You’re not just gonna push me out at your leisure again?”

Rodney shook his head. “There were— extenuating circumstances that you don’t want to know about that— stopped me from being here.”

John’s expression switched to something approaching worry and sympathy. “Parents being shitheels again?”

Rodney grasped at the lifeline that was tossed to him. “Something like that. I don’t— really wanna get into details.”

John nodded. “I understand. Just,” he said, chewing on his lip. “Don’t shut me out again, okay? I really missed you.”

How Rodney’s heart _ached_ at that. He smiled, trying to disguise the pain that flooded him at that. “I promise.”

* * *

* * *

John was worried about Rodney. He didn’t avoid the dorm like he had right after his parents did whatever awful thing they did had worn off, but he still twitched whenever he entered a room and he ducked his head any time John did _something_ , usually stretching or laying on his bed, but why he would do that he hadn’t identified yet. 

Rodney was a strange little duck but he was John’s little duck. He wanted to protect him from the mean geese on campus.

This metaphor was getting out of hand now. Especially since there really were mean Canadian geese on campus, but somehow John was always the one that got chased when he and Rodney were walking together through campus.

And that was something they did now, even with winter growing closer and closer. They still had the plane and flew it sometimes, but most times they went out together, they just walked and talked and got food from whatever dining hall was closest when they got hungry.

It was. Nice. 

John didn’t want it to end, but with winter break fast approaching and finals coming on their heels he didn’t see how it could.

Maybe in the spring semester things would settle back into a recognizable pattern but— John didn’t know what a month of separation would do to them.

Not that there was a “them” to contend with. Only in his dreams. And some more shower fantasies but no one but him needed to know about those. 

John stared out at the snow-covered campus they were walking through. It was pretty— and he would miss it over break if he went home. He stuffed his hands further into his jacket pockets and tuned back into whatever Rodney was rambling about now, eyes flickering between Rodney beside him and the clouds that their hot breath made in the air.

His mouth twitched into a grin when he heard it was about the grad students getting in his way with their last-minute projects that wouldn't get them a degree if the world depended on it.

“They're complete idiots, John, I really can’t comprehend it— why do these, these, these nincompoops get official lab space while I’m forced to sneak in and commandeer university resources for my own use. It’s beyond reckoning.”

He snickered at Rodney’s affronted tone. “I really think that in this case, you’re the one in their way,” he said, covering his laugh with a cough.

“I’m worth all the grad students combined, I deserve that lab space!” 

John felt it was strange to know utterly and completely that he had never wanted to kiss Rodney more. And wasn’t it strange that he always felt this way when Rodney was at his worst?

He kicked at the small hill made of snow made from plowing the sidewalks and thought that maybe he should get a little revenge for the grad students. Just because _he_ found it endearing didn’t mean they did. Quite the opposite probably.

He slowed his pace until he was a good few steps behind Rodney, who was ranting his head off again, and quickly picked up a handful of snow, forming it into a ball before Rodney could notice that he was no longer beside him. He couldn't help but grin before he threw the snowball at Rodney. 

It hit him perfectly in the center of the back of his head and Rodney stopped dead in his tracks before slowly turning around.

“Really, John?” He asked. “Are you really trying to start a snowball fight with a Canadian?”

John shrugged and reached down for more snow. “Maybe,” he said, packing the snow into another ball. 

He threw it at Rodney, but he ducked this time and it broke against the pavement behind him.

“Oh, it’s on,” Rodney said, reaching for the bank of snow himself now. He gathered together a ball faster than John could and pelted him with it, hitting him in the stomach.

John just laughed and threw one back, quickly ducking Rodney’s retaliation. 

It devolved from there, ending with them shoving snow down each other’s jackets. Finally, they fell, spent, into the snow, panting and grinning so wide and—

Dammit, John still wanted to kiss him.

He sat up and couldn't help smiling softly down at Rodney, who was splayed out next to him, basking in the winter sun. 

His eyes fluttered open in the bright sunshine and John reined in his smile just in time. 

“Ready to go home?” He asked him.

Rodney nodded and sat up. “Really should have dressed better if you were planning on attacking me like you did.”

John shrugged again. “Wasn’t really planning it when we left.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and levered himself up. He extended an arm out towards John and he let himself take it, grabbing Rodney’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. He was surprisingly strong for someone as skinny as he was.

John forced himself to let go of Rodney’s hand when he was up, but it was a near thing. He forced himself to remember that Rodney wasn’t into him that way, else he probably would have made a move by now.

Right?

He shook himself and started to walk back towards their dorm. It wouldn’t do to dwell on impossibilities.

He breathed in the cold air and shivered the tiniest bit, shirt almost soaked beneath his damp jacket. They needed to get home soon.

Rodney’s breath beside him started to come out in pants as they went up the last few hills and when they finally got into their— heated— building, he shivered violently. 

“Fuck,” John muttered and hurried to help him out of his jacket. His shirt was damp through as well, sticking to his chest wetly, and his nipples stood out proudly, peaked in the cold and wet. John felt his face heat up and ducked his head to avoid looking at him. “C’mon, let’s get you into a warm shower.”

They hurried up to their third-floor room and Rodney started stripping almost immediately, hopping around when his wet pants didn't want to come off easily. 

John didn’t know if helping him would make the situation better or worse for himself so he just bustled around the room trying to get things ready for Rodney to shower. He got him two of his towels and got out the other blankets his “parents” had gotten him, even going so far as to duck into their tiny bathroom and turn on the shower to a lukewarm temperature.

“Don’t jack up the temperature when you get in the shower, okay?” He said. “You’ll shock your system otherwise.”

“I know about temperature shock, I am from a naturally cold country,” Rodney said sourly. 

John raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

Rodney half-glared at him and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door soundly behind him.

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. How a kid who ate that much could still somehow count his ribs was amazing, in a horrible way. He dropped his hands and glanced around the room. What else to do?

He glanced at the thermostat and saw that it was at 72. Warm for this time of year, but the university could afford the room to be up to 75, maybe 76. He just hoped that the ancient radiator in the room could warm up the room by the time Rodney got out of the shower.

He cranked the thermostat, changed into warm clothes, sat down on his bed, and waited.

Waiting was horrible.

He let himself fall back onto his bed, almost cracking his head on the wall but landing alright in the end. He listened to the patter of the shower and closed his eyes. For long minutes, he lay there, breathing and trying not to think of anything. Eventually, the water shut off and the door opened after another moment. 

Rodney stood there, hair still damp and sticking up in tufts, with one towel around his waist and one around his shoulders. His frame was already shaking minutely.

“I-I forgot t-to bring in clothes,” Rodney said, his shivers making him stutter.

John lurched up and rifled through his drawers. He had seen Rodney’s lounge clothes— they weren’t made with the cold in mind.

“Here,” he said, offering him a sweatshirt and sweatpants. “I have the thermostat cranked but the way you’re shivering, I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Rodney nodded miserably and ducked back into the bathroom after grabbing a pair of underwear out of his own dresser.

John took a shaky breath in and tried to focus. Was there anything else he could do?

Rodney ducked back out and dove into his bed, quickly bundling himself into all the blankets piled there. 

“I’m so _cold,”_ he said, voice still shaking from the cold. 

John’s brow scrunched up and he frowned. “Do you want some coffee? Some soup?”

Rodney nodded his head. “Coffee, please.”

John set it to brewing and paced the room while it worked. He kept darting glances at Rodney, noting that his shivering wasn’t getting any better. If anything, it was getting _worse._

“Rodney,” he said tentatively. “Would it be— okay, if, uh, I laid down next to you? Under the blankets? To help you warm up?”

Rodney’s pale face flushed but he nodded, lifting the edge of his thick blanket layer, allowing John to duck in.

John burrowed in next to him, trying to keep a miniscule amount of distance between them while still allowing his body heat to reach Rodney. He laid there in the narrow bed and forced himself to think unsexy thoughts.

It wasn’t very effective.

Rodney was stiff as a board beside him, staring up at the ceiling and seeming to ignore him. He was still shivering.

John gave up.

“Come here,” he said, wriggling one arm under Rodney’s head and slinging the other over his chest, tucking himself close to him. Rodney froze up before slowly melting into his touch, letting his head fall to rest on John’s shoulder. John sighed and tightened his grip on him. Rodney shifted in his arms, turning until he was facing him, rubbing his face into his chest and tucking one of his legs between John’s.

John’s jaw worked and he stared at the wall behind Rodney’s head, determined not to betray his interest. He had more control than a 14-year-old boy. He could do this. He could also feel himself starting to sweat under his clothes and the layers of blankets. How Rodney wasn’t warm yet was a bit of a miracle, if miracles could be considered bad things. 

He was warm and tired and there was the comforting smell of coffee in the room and he was surrounded by Rodney’s scent. He could fall asleep here he realized, his eyes already drifting shut and breath slowing.

This was either going to end well or horribly.

* * *

* * *

Rodney woke up slowly, the smell of John and burnt coffee thick in his nose.

Oh, lord, the pot of coffee John had put on had gone to waste when he fell asleep.

He blinked his eyes open slowly and saw that John was asleep as well, air puffing softly out of his slightly open mouth, drool sliding out the corner of his mouth, and he had never looked so soft and relaxed. Rodney wanted to see him like this more.

He tucked the edge of his sleeve over his thumb and used it to wipe away the drool, eyes flickering over John’s face to make sure he didn’t wake up. Drool wiped away, he slipped his hand back out of his sleeve and trailed his fingers over John’s cheekbone, sliding past featherlight eyelashes. He lifted his other hand and framed John’s face between his two hands, lightly touching him while he slept on.

He stared at him in the half-light of dusk and dared to imagine what kissing him would be like.

Instead of doing anything though, he tucked himself back into John's chest, the crown of his head just under John's chin, and fell back asleep.

He half-woke when John started moving around, shoving a layer of blankets back and curling more into Rodney sleepily so that they face each other even more. Their chests were pressed together, free arms wrapped around each other and trapped hands pressed against each other, fingers tangled. He fell back asleep to the feeling of John pressing his face into his hair.

And he dreamed. Until it wasn’t a dream, and John really was rocking his hips against his in his sleep and it was dark in the room, lights outside lining the campus sidewalks casting long shadows in the strips of light that happened to fall into the room.

“Mph,” John rumbled when Rodney tried to edge away from him, too embarrassed by what his dream had been to really realize that it was reality now.

“John,” he hissed. “Wake up.”

“Rodney,” he groaned, eyes still closed. When he didn’t open his eyes and his motions sped up, Rodney realized he was still asleep. And he had just said his name. While having what appeared to be a sex dream?

“John,” Rodney said, this time in a normal voice. “John, you need to wake up,” he said, gently shaking his shoulder.

John stilled and opened his eyes but they were unfocused and bleary. “What is it, Rodney.”

“You—” Rodney started. “You said my name in your sleep and you— you were,” he took a deep breath. “Were grinding against me? I think it’s called?”

John immediately pushed Rodney as far away as their cocoon of blankets would allow, which wasn’t much. “Rodney, I’m— I’m so sorry, I can— I can put in a roommate transfer or something, you should get the room alone for the rest of the semester and you won’t—”

Rodney pressed forward and kissed him, silencing his words. John’s mouth was still moving under his, trying to form words, but after a few seconds, he fell prey to what he wanted and began kissing back.

It wasn’t a neat kiss. Rodney didn’t know what he was doing and he could tell John was still half-asleep despite his tirade and rude awakening. Their teeth clacked, their noses bumped, there was morning breath to contend with, and their lips were too wet.

But.

It was them. Kissing. And Rodney wanted to keep doing it.

Within seconds, they were pressed together again, every inch as close as they could get. 

“John,” Rodney muttered into the kiss. “I—”

John hummed in response, tangling one hand into his hair. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he gasped. “I’m new to— to this and—”

John nodded and slowed the kissing down, chastely pecking his lips again and again. “I’ll take care of you.”

* * *

* * *

John had only been with a few girls, a couple of guys, but it was enough to know that he was very bi and how to work with his hands.

He rolled forward until he was hovering over Rodney, staring into his bright blue eyes, and used one hand to hold himself up, the other pushing the blankets back completely. He tucked his face into the heated skin of Rodney’s neck and planted a soft kiss on his pulse point. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. Rodney shuddered beneath him.

He fumbled his hand under the hem of Rodney’s shirt, tracing the jut of his hip before pushing up further, dragging the shirt with him. He mouthed at Rodney’s neck and trailed his fingers along the edge of his ribs, making him squirm and whimper.

“John,” he gasped and ground his erection up against his thigh. “I— I want— hn,” he groaned when John moved his hand down his side, wiggling it under his pants and gripping his thigh with an iron grasp.

He draped himself fully over Rodney, letting his weight hold him down. It was almost a relief to have some pressure against his cock again. And even better, it wasn’t hard to be heavier than the younger boy, but it still made him heady, being able to do this. He pulled Rodney’s leg up and around his hip, encouraging him to wrap it around his waist and it didn’t take a lot for him to do it. 

“Come on,” he said, thrusting his hips against Rodney’s. “I know you want to.”

He pulled his head up to look at Rodney and was blessed with the sight of him. His red blotched cheeks and his eyes clenched shut and his swollen, bitten lip— he wanted to do so many things to him, he didn’t even know where to start.

Well, that was a lie. He knew he wanted to kiss him again. So he did. He ducked down and pressed a messy kiss to his lips, uncoordinated and too hard and it was terrific. He pressed forward into the kiss and ground his hips down and Rodney was writhing beneath him and it was amazing.

“Rodney,” he sighed into the kiss, barely breaking it to speak. “I want— I want so much.”

Rodney could seemingly only nod against him, smearing kisses across his jaw.

John dared to move his hand to toy with the boxers Rodney was wearing under the sweatpants and he stiffened beneath him for a moment before completely melting. 

“Please,” he said, panted more like, “John, please.”

John’s long ignored erection throbbed at the words. He was 18, he was still a teenager, he was allowed to get hard at the slightest things, especially his hot roommate. Especially especially when that roommate was under him in a tiny bed, asking him to do very dirty things to him.

His imagination before this had only taken him so far. He knew what a cock felt like, but he didn’t know what _Rodney’s_ cock felt like.

And god did he want to.

He dipped his hand into the opening at the front of the boxers and palmed Rodney’s cock, feeling the soft skin over hard flesh. 

The kiss grew messier. He ground his dick against Rodney’s hip and hoped that he wouldn’t go off like a 13-year-old when he touched more of him. The muted sensations through so many layers of fabric helped, but he could feel Rodney’s hands growing braver, ducking under his shirt and digging into his back as they moved against each other. 

He just held Rodney’s cock for a moment, felt it twitch in his grasp, when Rodney apparently finally had enough. 

“John, come _on, touch me,”_ he moaned, bucking against him.

John broke out of his trance and drew his hand as much as he could up Rodney’s cock in the restricted space between them. Rodney’s hips twitched up into him and he gasped.

“More,” he demanded, nails digging into John’s back this time.

John started jacking his hand up and down his cock, smearing sweat and precome down the shaft as he went.

“John, I— I want to— ugh, let me just,” Rodney said, impatience filling his tone, and he somehow? Flipped them over?

John was beyond surprised for a moment, and then concentrated on not falling over the edge of the bed.

His hand was now rather awkwardly trapped in Rodney’s pants above him, and all of Rodney’s weight on him was harder and less familiar to deal with, and therefore uncomfortable. He whined in discomfort.

“Rodney, you need to— just move already.”

“I’m _working_ on it,” Rodney hissed, and sat up so that he was straddling John’s thighs. He wriggled some more— very distractingly, John might add— and soon had his pants tucked below his ass, dick hanging out. With determination in his eyes, he set upon John’s pants, tugging and adjusting until he had his prize in his hands. The prize being, obviously, John’s dick.

Once John’s pants were pulled down far enough to release his cock, Rodney gripped the both of them in one hand, fingers not even meeting with their combined widths. 

John groaned at the feeling and bit his tongue, hard enough to taste blood. He wanted to thrust up against Rodney, get some friction out of this, but he had virtually no leverage.

Unless—

He let one leg drop off of the bed so that his legs were semi-splayed, but one foot was planted on the floor and _now_ he could grind up against Rodney all he wanted.

Then Rodney started stroking them, up and down in a rhythm that was far from practiced but still so damn good that John immediately wanted more. More Rodney, more skin touching between the two of them, more everything.

His hand joined Rodney’s on their lengths and Rodney stared down with wide eyes at their hands. 

“John, we’re— I’m—” he started, then stopped, seeming to be unable to continue.

“I know,” John responded, panting.

He sped up their strokes as his orgasm fast approached.

“Come on, come with me,” John choked out.

“Gonna,” Rodney breathed. “Soon.”

John’s hand tightened unconsciuosly at the words and they both hissed. Rodney then groaned and rocked harder against him. John tucked that bit of information into the back of his mind to think about later.

Electricity was arcing across his skin, or at least, it felt like it was.

Slowly but inexorably— or maybe it was faster than the speed of light, at this point, John didn’t know and he didn’t care— he was edging closer and closer to orgasm, feeling like he had been climbing this hill for ages now, despite knowing that it couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes since they woke up. He was gonna come soon, and he desperately wanted it to be while he had Rodney’s lips against his.

“Rodney, come here,” he said, getting an elbow under him and half-sitting up.

Rodney planted his free hand on the mattress next to them and ducked down, sealing their mouths together in a razing kiss. John could finally feel the real beginnings of his orgasm now and it felt like it was radiating out from his very bones. He bit Rodney’s lip as he thrust up once, twice, and came, harder than he had in a long while. Rodney followed a beat behind him, groaning when John’s come slicked the way of their hands. 

He could feel Rodney trembling against him and then his arm collapsed and they both fell to the bed. John giggled against Rodney’s mouth and he could feel him smile in return. 

“We— still, like, friends?” Rodney asked after a moment, lifting up just enough to get a good look at John’s face.

John glanced to the side and then back at Rodney, wanting to do this right, make sure this didn’t end. “I mean, I think we’re more than that now. I would _like_ to be more than that now.”

Rodney nodded and his face flushed even more. “I would— like that as well.”

John looked up at him and smiled. “Good. Great. I’m— glad.”

Rodney shyly smiled back. “Yeah.”

* * *

* * *

Rodney didn’t want to admit it, but he was in a panic. Exams were looming, he had five essays due all in one week, all over six pages, and he kind of just wanted to die so he could stick his college debt with his parents and be done with it.

Why did universities let people sign their life away at 18 again? Or younger, in Rodney’s case?

Oh, yeah, easy money.

Fuckin’ bastards.

But that wasn’t necessarily the point here. 

The point here was that Rodney was dying internally and John didn’t seem to notice. Weren’t they supposed to notice these things about each other? When the other was doing badly? Rodney didn’t notice when John was down and… was he supposed to?

And then there were his parents with all these end of semester care packages, like they had just sent a bunch all at once and it was completely out of character. The coffeemaker and the blankets at the beginning of the semester had been odd enough, but now the sleepy-time tea, and the massive amount of power bars and blue jello? Where the hell were they getting their information from? How did they know he was struggling so much? And how did they know his favorite brand of jello from that one specific dining hall that he liked and no one else did?

Something was going on. And it was weird.

But Rodney didn’t have the brain power to process it and he didn’t have the fucks to give either. He would just ask them about it over winter break.

* * *

* * *

John had just made it into the room, fully stocked up on “Keeping Rodney Happy” supplies once more, when he saw Rodney sitting at his desk, one earbud in, the other dangling uselessly from his frozen fingers. 

Because when the door had opened Rodney had spun around to see who was coming in.

“Hey, John, my last class got cancelled” Rodney said, voice cracking only a little bit. “Can I just ask though. What is all that.”

“Would you believe me if I said the mail person handed these grocery bags to me and said they were from your parents?” He hazarded.

“Not really, no,” Rodney said, shaking his head.

“Santa brought them and said they were from the elves to praise you for your hard work,” John tried.

“Still not believing it,” Rodney said. “John have you been— have you been the one bringing all the care package stuff to me?”

John fought down his blush. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Because like, if it really was my parents, it’s a federal crime to open someone else’s mail. And I’ve been brushing it off all this time because it’s just been care packages, but it’s really been you.” Rodney looked torn— there was happiness but also a sad tint in his eyes that John wanted to chase away with more blue jello.

John dropped the bags to the floor. "I'm sorry for lying, Rodney, but it's just— I got you the blankets and the coffeemaker and you seemed to accept that it was your parents. And then I kept getting you food and you still thought it was your parents and— it was just easier to say it was them rather than come off as like, creepy or something because I kept getting you stuff."

Rodney stood up, walked over to him, and wrapped him in a warm hug. "How you could ever think taking care of me was creepy, I don't know, but to be honest, I'm just glad someone made sure I didn't freeze over the semester."

John cracked a smile and chuckled. "You were just so tiny, and shivering, I couldn’t stand it.”

Rodney punched him softly on the shoulder. “You know, if you had just bought them for me openly we could have been friends a lot sooner than we were.”

“You would have refused them and you know it.”

“Yeeeeah, and I kind of regret that you know me so well _and_ have seen my dick.”

John laughed and Rodney smiled. It was a good look on him.

“Can we like, bang now, to celebrate my english class being canceled?” He asked John, eyes lighting up like it was Christmas.

John pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of his still smiling mouth. “I can do that.”

* * *

* * *

“Exams are done!” Rodney said, bursting into the room. John had finished his last exam yesterday, the lucky bastard. “I am a free man for a month.”

“Aren’t you going home to your parents? Don’t think that makes you very free,” John said from his position on Rodney’s bed, magazine open above his head.

“Nope, cited my need to save money as a reason not to go,” Rodney said, shaking his head. “I am totally free from all obligations, both moral and familial.”

John glanced over at him and narrowed his eyes. “Moral?”

“I’m morally obligated not to tell people their idiots constantly, aren’t I?”

“Doesn’t stop you from doing it.”

“Yeah, but now they can’t guilt me for it.”

John laughed. “I don’t think it works that way.”

Rodney waved his hands at him and went to sit at his desk. “Whatever.”

John let his magazine fall to the ground and rolled on his side so that he could see Rodney. “So. I’m not going home to see my parents either.”

Rodney perked up. “Oh! That means we’ll be together for winter break!”

“Yeah, is that…” John paused. “Okay? I don’t want you to be like. Cramped. Or something.”

“John, you could never make me feel cramped. Super horny? Yes. Very frustrated? Also yes. But cramped? This room does it for you.” Rodney said all of this while straightening up his desk. “Besides, I like spending time with you. I wouldn’t be in a relationship with you if I didn’t.”

“Well.” John said, just staring at him now, for some odd reason. “That’s good.”

Rodney side eyed him. “Glad you’re finally on board with the sexcation we’ve basically gotten for free here.”

John rolled his eyes and shifted till he was on his back again. “Get over here and cuddle with me asshole, I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Gladly.”

* * *

* * *

Time passed. They got an apartment their Junior year. They met some great joint friends, first Ford and Teyla, before Ford was forced to drop out to go to rehab, and then Ronon, the giant sports medicine transfer. 

They graduated. They only saw their parents over video calls.

It was a good deal. 

And all because of a dumb university policy.

Upon reflection, maybe it isn’t so dumb after all. At least, that’s what John and Rodney thought of it.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaa i hope you enjoyed,,,


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